


Creature of Habit

by KrisseyCrystal (AisukuriMuStudio)



Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: Drabble, Family Feels, Here goes, I don't know what it is with this introspective pieces but i like it???, Prologue, reflective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2016-08-15
Packaged: 2018-08-08 21:06:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7773409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AisukuriMuStudio/pseuds/KrisseyCrystal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It occurs to Zenrus that perhaps it was foolish to have believed he had outgrown selfishness.</p><p>[Or, in which Sorey and Mikleo leave Elysia by night under a sky filled with as many stars as there are emotions, and Grandpa Zenrus realizes he was not yet ready for this day to come.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Creature of Habit

It occurs to Zenrus that perhaps it was foolish to have believed he had outgrown selfishness.

He still remembers when Sorey found the little Elysalark and begged to raise it. He still remembers putting his hand on the young boy’s slender wrist and looking into those disappointed bright green eyes to murmur the inappropriateness of such an action—no matter the intention. After all, the little bird had to learn to fly on its own.

Ugh. How utterly hypocritical of him.

In the end, he had always said Sorey would leave. He had known this. Had told Mikleo this, even, in anticipation of the human boy’s departure.

But Zenrus had never—no, perhaps he could _not_ have foreseen his own hesitation in letting Sorey go.

Perhaps that’s why the night that Sorey did leave, under countless stars in the blanket and quiet of night, he himself did not go to see him off. The elder seraph was quite aware of the way he had reacted to the presence of the human girl Sorey had brought into their home—and quite aware of the sudden, strong desire to protect that had arisen when he had heard of it; a desire to cling fast to what he could, and keep it safe from the outside world.

It had hurt Sorey, he knew. Forcing him to let the girl go—the only other human he had ever known. Zenrus also was aware that perhaps his words had been too harsh on the boy who was so innocently, and rightly, eager to meet and see someone of his own kind.

But the knowledge that the time was suddenly now here in which Zenrus could no longer protect the youngest of his flock had hurt far more fiercely than he had anticipated. He had not been able to stop himself from lashing out in the manner he had, scrabbling to protect his children just for a little while longer.

He supposes he should have considered the appearance of the girl from Hyland as a warning. A reminder to him that even in their safe and warm village, high above the world below, he himself could not ignore reality. He could not ignore that which was causing the deep suffering of so many humans—and most likely, many other seraphim, as well.

And he could not ignore the fact that he held the two keys to the end of the world’s suffering right there in his own village, under his own roof.

For many happy years, he had the whole _worlds’_ answers to all of its problems right here with him; he had raised them. Rocked the world’s saviors to sleep; he had fed them. Washed them. Taught them to walk, to read, to talk.

And in the end, perhaps he had even delayed the world’s salvation by holding onto its two rays of hope for as long as he tried.

But no more. Zenrus sits cross-legged before the fire in the middle of his home, and he waits as time ticks on.

And as he waits, it occurs to Zenrus that perhaps children were not the only ones who had a lot to learn.

Somewhere between the moment when he first cradled Sorey and Mikleo in his arms, and the moment when Mikleo kneeled before him and told him of the human that they found in the depths of the nearby ruins, Zenrus realized that he had forgotten about Muse. He had forgotten about the events that had unfolded in Camlann, and the words that he and the Lady of the Lake had shared that fateful night when the Age of Chaos was born.

Or perhaps, more accurately put:  Zenrus had grown too comfortable.

He sighs the moment he can feel Sorey and Mikleo leave his domain. The moment they are out of the Aroundight Forest, and the moment he knows that they have truly entered a world he cannot protect them from.

The elderly seraph bows his head and he presses his fingers together.

He does not know if it is appropriate for a seraph to have “faith.” Typically, they are the ones in which faith is placed _in._ They are the receivers and blessing-givers of prayer.

But if, just _if,_ Zenrus himself could give a prayer that Sorey and Mikleo make it through their journey with no regrets—living their life to the fullest—and giving all that they could give to fix the errors of the last Shepherd, well…

…hopefully, one suddenly-lonely seraph’s prayer could do them good.

**Author's Note:**

> I finished Zestiria for the first time! Omgsh, it was the first Tales game I have played in a long, long time. (Last one I played was literally Tales of Symphonia. I don't count the second Symphonia game, sorry-not-sorry.) 
> 
> But as such, it's found it's way into my heart and now I'm hopelessly in love with the premise of the story, the characters, and I want to take them to new levels that I feel the game had potential with, but did not fully execute to my delight, so. Hopefully, if I can stop being lazy, you'll see more Zestiria from me, because I'm buzzing with all sorts of oneshot and potential multi-chapter fic ideas for this game.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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